


Cloudy Thoughts, Awkward Feels, and (Lots of) Griffindor Shenanigans

by demonkatgurl17



Series: Harry Potter and the Series of Degrading Events [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Au for smuttiness, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Cock Slut Harry, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, F/M, Fisting, Gangbang, Gratuitous Smut, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonkatgurl17/pseuds/demonkatgurl17
Summary: After Christmas break, Harry's feeling angsty and Dumbledore meddles again. Thankfully Harry's fellow Griffindors are there to make him feel better. (Porny Year 6 AU)
Relationships: Colin Creevey/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/(dream surprise!), Harry Potter/Dean Thomas, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Seamus Finnigan/Colin Creevey, Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter, Seamus Finnigan/Harry Potter, Seamus Finnigan/Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter/Dean Thomas/Ron Weasley
Series: Harry Potter and the Series of Degrading Events [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1205440
Comments: 16
Kudos: 141





	1. Harry's Angsty and Dumbledore Meddles Again

**Author's Note:**

> So this whole thing is exploding larger than I ever intended it to get...I have oodles written out for chapters ahead of this one, just bunches of little notes on scraps of paper. I have fucking outlines and calendar notations. Like, this shit be insane. I just want them to Fuck. But. My heart longs to write plot as well and here we are, tripping down a merry lane while I try to make various character bang and yet still end up with a competent fic that doesn't come off as some vaguely cracky shit.
> 
> *Sighs*
> 
> Anyway, here ya go.

Jan. 6 th, 1997

Harry never liked Mondays.

"I hate Mondays," Harry groused, moving his eggs around with his fork. His stomach baled at finishing off his plate, so he poked at them instead.

Hermione grimaced in sympathy. "The first day back from break is always the worst. Cheer up, it'll be Saturday before you know it!"

"I doubt that." 

A burst of laughter down the table caught their attention. Lavender was practically sitting on Ron's lap, her arms wrapped around his shoulders in a much more loving version of a stranglehold, giggling loudly. "Oh Won-Won, you're so funny!" 

Beet-red, Ron grinned sheepishly, looking a tad embarrassed by the attention they were getting from the students around them.

Hermione made a mock-gagging sound that sent Harry into a fit of giggles, stifling them behind his hand. His smile soon faded. Laughing at Ron’s expense could only do so much to ease his bad mood — which had nothing to do with Mondays or the start of second term, but had everything to do with his best friend.

Or was it his _former_ best friend? 

He and Ron had drifted further and further apart this year after Ron and Lavender first became a thing — which sucked, sure, but he’d _understood_. Hell, if Harry was getting sex on a regular basis, he would probably do the same.

 _Maybe_. 

But then Christmas break had happened and now it felt like Ron was actively pulling away from him, _intentionally_ ignoring him, and well…it hurt. Harry got on very well with Hermione, but Ron was different. Ron liked quidditch and goofing around and wasn’t afraid of getting in trouble and, though Harry loved Hermione like a sister, their dynamic just wasn’t the same.

If Harry hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own personal issues and sex drive, he’d probably be far more upset than he was.

What kind of a shit friend did that make Harry?

His mood souring, Harry did his best to look at least a little interested as Hermione resumed her recount of her holiday with the Lovegoods. It _should_ have been entertaining, how a practical girl like Hermione had grit her teeth and taken part in an outlandish yule ceremony that had required all participants to frolic naked under the moon with sprigs of holly between their teeth (“ _I nearly had frostbite — and not just on my toes!” Hermione had wailed_ ), only Harry’s mind kept wandering back to his own holidays.

Already he missed the freedom of succumbing to his needs, safe amongst people who knew him and wouldn’t judge him for being such a needy slut. It had been so _freeing_ , not once having to skulk around the back of a filthy bar to fuck on an even filthier mattress. There was no need to wear some musty old hood to conceal his identity either.

Just awesome sex without all that _work_.

Now he was back at Hogwarts, where the nearest fuck was a loooong walk underground to get to Hogsmeade in the dead of winter. The Easter holiday, when he could next return to the Burrow, felt ages away.

Today was the first day of his intermittent celibacy and he was dreading it.

He _really_ hated Mondays. 

And mornings.

Scowling at his bad luck, Harry took a half-hearted bite of a piece of bacon, his stomach tolerating it better than the eggs.

The arrival of a nervous-looking barn owl dispelled some of his black mood.

Attached to its leg was a note from Dumbledore. There was to be another lesson, tonight.

That meant discovering more about Tom Riddle. Anticipation rose within him. Maybe he’d get to see Voldemort as a school boy again, perhaps as he was in the diary, young and handsome and already so self-assured... 

Maybe Mondays weren’t complete shite after all.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Harry very nearly bounced on his toes as Dumbledore prepared the pensieve.

Harry was on edge, not just because he had nearly moved a great man like Dumbledore to tears by recounting his meeting with Rufus Scrimgeour (proclaiming himself “Dumbledore’s man through and through” had apparently been more than the old man had expected of Harry), no, he was excited to learn more about Voldemort’s early life. Harry was utterly _fascinated_ by the transformation of Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort, how the handsome young man had turned into a monster, a boogeyman that scared children and adults alike, but deadlier and far more real than any nightmare. 

Harry recalled the memory Dumbledore had shown him in their previous lesson: a young Tom Riddle, eleven years old and the spitting image of the handsome muggle that Merope Gaunt had fallen in love with. Already the little orphan boy had looked to be a budding sadist and a bully. Was Lord Voldemort evil from the start, bad from the moment he was born, or was he the product of a broken system, where the poor and the helpless slid through the cracks, ignored until they became too much of a problem to remain forgotten? Did something happen to twist him, his warped soul taking his pain out those around him?

How could that handsome little boy go so wrong? Was there nothing anyone could have done? 

These questions and more had burned in Harry’s mind ever since Dumbledore had begun showing Harry these memories.

Sometimes Harry could understand all too well the anger that must have burned in Tom Riddle’s veins, growing up in squalor, without anyone who actually _gave_ a damn about him. He could understand the confusion and the thirst for answers, desperate for _any_ lifeline to prove he wasn’t alone, a _freak_. 

Why hadn’t the Ministry done something? 

They had responded quick enough to Morfin’s attack on Tom Riddle Sr, mere hours after the muggle was cursed, and of course Marvolo and Morphin were carted off to prison for the attack (and the assault of several Ministry officials), but what about Merope? Surely it would have been curious to someone in the Ministry that the same muggle victim from Little Hangleton had eloped with the sister of his attacker? 

What follow up had the Ministry performed? 

A witch abused by her family, a known muggle victim drugged and raped, and a wizard child abandoned in the muggle world to grow up without knowing love — this was a family born of the Ministry’s neglect and countless lives could have been saved if the Ministry had done its fucking _job._

Lord Voldemort may never have existed at all.

...Okay, maybe that was a bit escapist. After all, no one _forced_ Tom Riddle to kill people.

But Harry was still bitter about Christmas Day, when Rufus Scrimgeour had the gall to ask for Harry’s support for the Ministry, how Harry had been expected to stand with the same organization that had seen to his ridicule and torture, that had imprisoned Sirius without a trial, that had spent decades if not centuries poorly overseeing and aiding the very people it was charged with protecting.

If Harry had been raised with fewer manners, he would have spit in Scrimgeour’s face.

Though as Harry learned more about Tom Riddle, saw how Dumbledore treated the boy with suspicion and faint disdain from the start, in the back of his mind Harry also wondered if the Headmaster had his own hand in the creation of Lord Voldemort. This thought brought Harry no little shame and confusion, as it went against everything he thought Dumbledore to be — kind, patient, and protective.

“Shall we?” Dumbledore gestured Harry over to his side. 

Freeing himself from his uncomfortable thoughts, Harry gladly dipped his face to the pensieve and down memory lane he went, through Morfin’s memory of meeting Tom Riddle hours before the Riddle murder that he would go to Azkaban for, then through Slughorn’s poorly-altered memory.

Both memories showed Tom Riddle, no older than Harry and perfectly capable of manipulating those around him to get what he wanted. Young as Voldemort was, he already moved with a confidence Harry himself could only manage when he was on his knees. Young Tom Riddle was so alluring, and yet that same confidence and control was frightening, knowing such murderous violence lurked beneath that cool exterior, even as a teenager.

Brimming with conflicting thoughts and now burdened with the monumental task of dealing with Slughorn, Harry was heading for the door when Dumbledore called him back.

“Apologies, my boy. With so much on my mind as of late, a little forgetfulness here and there is to be expected. But…if you’ll permit me?”

Curious, Harry watched as Dumbledore came around the desk to stand before him, wand in hand. With an elaborate flourish, he pointed his wand right at Harry’s midriff.

Harry blinked. “Sir? What—?”

The air in front of Harry began to glow, soft white and, if he squinted, seemed to rhythmically pulse.

After a moment, the magic faded.

Harry could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Why was he _afraid?_ He looked up at the Headmaster, his heart lurching at the immense sorrow in the old man’s face. “Sir? What— What was that? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Harry,” Dumbledore rasped, as though barely holding back tears. “You’ve done _nothing_ wrong. But there are some worries…you should not have to bear.”

Without thought, Harry stepped back and made to run for the door, not understanding what he was doing or why he was running from _Dumbledore_ of all people. 

All he knew was that he needed to get out.

 _Now_.

His hand closed on the doorknob.

A spell hit him in the back, dead center.

Harry’s world went black.

“Hello Harry.”

Harry turned to see Luna walking up to him. Dazed, Harry glanced around. He was on the seventh floor, a few corridors away from the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

“Oh, hi Luna. Are you going to see Hermione?”

“I’ve just been,” she smiled, her voice light and airy in her usual dream-like way. “It’s nearly curfew.”

Oh. He hadn’t realized.

“Er…I guess I’ll head in then.” Harry scratched at the side of his head, frowning when he grazed a fair sized bump, which began to throb as soon as he touched it. Then he noticed that all over his body were little aches and pains, like he’d taken a tumble or bumped into something. Or a lot of somethings. The worst of it was his stomach. He rubbed at his belly, face twisting at the awful feeling of _wrong_ coursing through him.

Luna tilted her head. “Are you alright Harry? You look much paler than you usually do.”

“Er- Do I?” Did he always look bad? “Um, think I’ll be fine. Prolly just need some sleep.” Sleep sounded _amazing_ , now that he thought about it. He just wanted to close his eyes and drift away—

A slightly worried look disturbed Luna’s normally placid expression. “You know that if anything is wrong, you can always talk to me. I’m a very good listener. Hermione is too — when she’s not busy talking.” She gave a tinkling laugh that crinkled her eyes in a charming way. It was obvious she was smitten with Harry’s friend.

Great, now his heart ached too...

“Yeah, I know.” Harry forced a smile he didn’t quite feel, suddenly needing to be alone. He was happy for his friends, really, but Harry had no one for himself. “I’ll be fine. A few hours of sleep and I’ll be right as rain.”

“Okay then. I’ll head back to my Tower then.”

And off she skipped — _literally_ skipped — down the hall.

Harry stared after her for a bit, trying to clear his head. His brain felt slow and disconnected, unable to really concentrate on any one thing, and he was so _tired_ , his body aching in places it normally didn’t, especially low in his gut. 

Was he getting sick?

He shook his head and made his way to the Fat Lady’s portrait. “‘Abstinence’,” he muttered, stepping into the Common Room. A whole _week_ until Saturday when he could get to the Hog’s Head Inn for some proper relief. 

_Abstinence was right_ , he mentally grumbled.

The portrait swung open and Harry stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room. Apparently, it was very late indeed. Hermione was the only one left in the room.

“Harry!” Hermione waved him over to the couch she’d claimed, her books and homework spread across it. She cleared a spot for him. “How did it go with Professor Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore? 

Harry blinked. 

His meeting with Dumbledore— 

Instantly, he recalled the two newest memories of Tom Riddle and the task Dumbledore had set for him. Strange, until Hermione asked, Harry had quite forgotten...

“It was interesting.” He all but collapsed onto the couch, sagging into the squashy cushioning. A decorative button dug into the back of his head. He pressed back into it, using the discomfort to fend off the rising wave of exhaustion threatening to crash over him and sweep him away. “Really interesting.”

“Harry, are you feeling alright?”

He looked round at her, surprised to see her biting her lip, her brows drawn in worry. “I’m fine,” he said, his shrug awkward and hampered by his slouched position.

“It’s just…you don’t _look_ fine. And you’re rubbing at your belly again, just like you did after the last two meetings.”

He blinked, confused. Harry looked down at himself. She was right, he was rubbing at it. He hadn’t even noticed.

He let his hand fall away to the couch. “I’m fine,” he insisted. Wasn’t he? “Look, it’s been a rough day back and, between classes and Dumbledore, I’m probably just tired. Overdid it.” He shrugged again.

Hermione searched his face for a long moment. “You’d tell me if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you? Because you _can_ tell me anything, Harry, anything at all. I won’t judge. It’s… I’m just worried about you. You never feel very well after these ‘lessons’.”

A small defensive voice in Harry’s head wanted to lash out at her, tell her to mind his own business.

But he knew that her worry was genuine and came from a good place. She cared about him, enough to fight back tears just because Harry was a little pale and ached in weird places.

After nearly six years, Harry still wasn’t quite used to having people care about him and her affections more often than not made him squirm, uncomfortable with the attention. Sometimes, it all felt like a dream, the kind he would indulge in while locked in his cupboard, wishing that he had _real_ friends instead of the pretend ones he had in the broken castoff toys he played with.

Feeling horribly awkward, Harry smiled and reached out, drawing her into a tentative hug that she heartily returned. “Thank you. I _do_ know. And it goes both ways.”

Her breath hitched a little. She held him tighter for a moment before pulling away, quickly dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve as she did.

Harry pretended not to notice. “I think I’m going to head to bed now.” He stood, stretching, failing to bite back a yawn. “You might want to clear up, too. It’s getting late.”

“Ah- yes. Yes it is. _”_ Not looking at him, Hermione started to organize her things into little piles, gathering them up. “See you in the morning.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Harry plodded up the steps to his dorm. He didn’t even bother getting cleaned up. Exhaustion was starting to overwhelm him and it was all he could do to change into his pajamas and crawl into bed, sleep claiming him before he knew it.


	2. Harry gets by with a little help from his friends

Jan 7th, 1997

  
  


“Harry still not up yet?” 

Ron shook his head, batting away the wad of parchment Seamus had lobbed at him. “No. But he got in late. I didn’t even hear him go to bed last night.”

“Like that means anything, you’re pretty much out once you crash,” Dean said.

The three of them were lounging in the chairs by the fireplace in the Common Room. They had just gotten back from breakfast and now they were full and lazy, primed to waste away the early morning free period before Herbology. 

Seamus dug his elbow into Dean’s side, a lewd grin on his face. “Wonder who the lucky girl is.” 

Ron was about to correct Seamus before he considered that Harry might not want people to know he liked _guys,_ not _girls_. 

Or at least not _just_ girls, there had been that thing with Cho Chang last year, he remembered. Or did Harry not like girls anymore? It had been a while since he’d really talked to his friend. 

Christmas break didn’t count, they had done just about everything _except_ talk.

Seamus noticed his hesitation, misinterpreting it. “You know who he was with?” Looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Come on. Spill. We won’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean laughed, knocking Seamus in the arm. “You couldn’t keep a secret to save your life.”

“Could too!”

“Could not.”

“Hey, shut it!” Ron hissed, looking around furtively. The idiots were drawing attention he didn’t want. “I dunno what he was out doing, alright? I was out with Lav all day.”

“Making up for lost time?” Dean smirked. ”Often as you two were at it before, I bet Christmas break felt like bloody torture.”

“Yeah, nothing gives a guy blue balls like spending time with the family.” Seamus grimaced, shaking his head in sympathy. 

“Y-yeah, definitely.” Ron nervously rubbed at the back of his head, hoping they thought his sudden bashfulness and flush was from talking about sex with Lavender and not...the whole mess of bad-wrong he’d indulged in over break. He still didn’t know what to think about the unnatural desires that gripped him even now, wanting to fuck his best friend and his _sister._

And then there was that weird thing with Bill...Ron thought about how _good_ his big brother’s cum felt as it leaked from his ass while he lay dazed on the floor. 

The filthy memory sent a shiver of want up his spine. 

His cock gave a hopeful twitch. 

“Welp, it’s getting on, I’m gonna try to pry Harry outta bed.” Ron hastily stood, needing to get away before his thoughts (and his budding erection) became noticeable. 

“Aw, come on, let him sleep —”

“Yeah, mate, there’s still loads of time before Herbology!”

Ron waved them off and took the stairs to the dorm two at a time, eager to get away. He slipped into the dorm, closing the door behind him. Heaving a grateful sigh, he leaned back against it. That had been too close for comfort. His cock was still sporting a partial chub, but then that was its natural state lately. 

Before him, Harry lay in bed, still dead to the world, just as Ron had left him.

Since returning to Hogwarts two days ago, Ron had avoided him. 

On purpose. 

He felt bad about it. Before Christmas, Ron would ditch Harry to fuck Lavender (because, really, who wouldn’t?). Now he was ditching Harry because of the strange thoughts in Ron’s head, which were worse than the _memories_ because the memories had _already_ happened and the thoughts that tripped around Ron’s head made him itch to create _more_ memories—

It felt like something inside of him was twisted, _wrong_. 

Ron grit his teeth. What the hell was _wrong_ with him? Harry was his best mate. He shouldn’t want to pin him down and fuck him silly against every available surface.

Not to mention what he wanted to do to Ginny every time he saw her—

Something about that night had changed everything, like a switch had been flipped inside of him.

Ron surged away from the door, anger starting to coil in his gut. _This was_ Harry’s _fault_ , he thought, stalking up to his mate’s bed, glowering down at him. 

Harry must have _enchanted_ him, put Ron under some kind enthrallment. Did Harry have creature blood? Ron was vividly reminded of Fleur Delacour, a part-Veela who could walk past a guy and drive him crazy, who had half of Hogwarts, including Ron, pining for her, aroused and struck stupid when they got too close. Ron couldn’t remember Harry acting funny around her, like he’d been immune to her or something...

Or maybe Harry was an _incubus_ , or a siren ( _were_ there any male sirens?) _—_

Harry shifted in his sleep from his side to his back, mumbling something incomprehensible before settling again. 

Unconsciously, Ron’s eye wandered over his friend, looking his fill of Harry’s creamy skin, his pitch-black hair tousled against the pillow, and those _lips_ , soft and puffy, as though they had just been wrapped around a—

Ron shook his head to dispel the unwanted thoughts. Now his stupid cock was straining against his robes.

Because of _Harry_. 

Maybe Ron got hard because he was so pretty? Harry was _definitely_ a boy, but a pretty one, lithe and still rather small for his age. If it weren’t for already being _Harry Potter,_ tHe cHoSeN oNe, he would turn heads anyway. 

Fuckable little Harry, seducing the masses just by walking down the hall, like _Fleur_ —

Ron clenched his fists, trying to will away his stupid erection. 

With no success. 

Maybe distance would help. 

He stomped over to his own bed, teeth gnashing in frustration. Sitting down, he glared at his wayward cock. 

He couldn’t go back down to the Common Room like _this_ , he’d never hear the end of it. 

Ron chewed at his lip.

He could always wank it away...go back and tell the guys Harry wanted to lie in for a bit longer...Yeah, a nice wank sounded pretty good, actually, and for once the room was empty, if one forgot about Harry.

Which he couldn’t. Because Harry was the reason he was rock hard in the first place.

He palmed himself over his robes. That lovely mouth of Harry’s would be helpful right about now. Harry knew _just_ what to do with it too, and he was _eager_ —

Breathing harder now, Ron freed his aching cock, gripping it punishingly tight at the base. The traitorous thing twitched in his hand anyway, swaying like a weird, lazy snake.

Harry could talk to snakes.

His brain was being less and less helpful.

Ron licked his lips.

Maybe—

Ron looked over at the door, hesitating for a long moment before his libido won out, forcing his hand. He cast a locking charm at the door and a silencing charm for good measure, then returned to Harry’s bed, standing awkwardly beside it. He felt equal parts silly and turned on, standing fully clothed with his cock out like some creepy warlock, the kind his mother used to warn them about while marching them past Knockturn Alley.

Ron Weasley, the pervert. Turn ons: incest and illicit wank sessions.

How messed up could a guy get?

Too bad none of that softened his cock. 

At all.

He scowled, berating himself under his breath even as he gripped his cock, giving it a good, solid stroke. It was all Harry’s fault, having cocksucker lips and pretty green eyes…

Ron stared at those lips, finding a steady rhythm with his hand. When he sought out Lavender the day before, the first thing he did was hurry her off to the nearest secluded spot and get her on her knees. It had been amazing, as always, but having Harry’s lips around his cock had come with a certain _zing_. Fucking Harry had felt so wrong and yet so right at the same time; desire had licked up his spine and curled his toes watching Harry suck him all the way down — and that was _nothing_ compared to how it felt with Ginny.

Ron jacked his cock, wishing that he could have Harry like that again, have those lips around him. He could always wake Harry up, ask him for a go…

But the very thought terrified him. Ron wasn’t ready to acknowledge...whatever it was that was wrong with him, because he was sure wanting gay sex with his friend and very illegal straight sex with his sister didn’t just come from nowhere.

Not that his dick cared one whit about what got it hard. 

_Come on, you stupid cock, come on his face already!_ Ron thought angrily at his dick. His wrist was starting to ache from the fast pace, trying to get off quick.

It seemed to have the opposite effect.

Frustrated, Ron’s hand slowed. 

He sighed. It was going to take more than just staring at his friend’s face to get off. Maybe he could get Harry to suck him while sleeping? Like a baby with a pacifier. 

Excited, he tried to run with that idea, got a knee up on the bed even, but the slightest bit of his weight dipped the bed and Harry began to stir, head thrashing a little against the pillow. Ron froze, waiting for Harry to open his eyes, catch him in the act — then nothing. 

Except that Harry’s face was now turned to the opposite wall, laying further from the edge on that side of the bed, making his lips even more out of reach than before. 

Ron very seriously contemplated levitating himself over Harry’s bed just to fuck that mouth, but decided that if he didn’t want to accidentally wake Harry up, then he _really_ didn’t want to accidentally crush Harry if he lost control of the spell.

He decided to change tactics.

The blanket covering Harry was nearly shucked off anyway so Ron nudged it off the rest of the way, leaving Harry in overlarge, ratty pajamas. The top was easy enough to work with, the handful of buttons quickly undone. The top fell open, baring Harry’s torso; he was scrawny, ribs slightly protruding, with the barest sprinkling of hair on his chest and trailing from his naval into the threadbare pajama bottoms. 

Ron paused, eyeing the strange ripples of white scars that began at Harry’s naval and arched out in all directions on his lean belly. Just the sight of them made Ron feel queasy. He couldn’t imagine a curse that would leave marks like this behind. He shivered. He knew precious-little about the attack on his friend, but he was thankful that Dumbledore had been there or who knows what might have happened to Harry.

His hand hovered over the grooves and twists of scarred flesh, tempted to trace them, maybe even _lick_ them—

He moved on. 

The pajama bottoms were cinched at Harry’s waist by a complicated-looking tangle of drawstring. Ron nearly cast a severing charm to get through the mess, but eventually he worked it out. The actual girth of the bottoms was so wide that Ron didn’t have to pull them down at all to reveal Harry’s cock. 

It lay flaccid. 

Disappointing.

Ron frowned. Well _that_ wasn’t very helpful.

He reached out again and this time he _did_ touch, running the tip of a finger up and down Harry’s cock, light and gentle as a breeze. 

It twitched. 

Grinning, Ron ignored his own hardness for the moment, leaning down to blow across Harry’s testicles. He froze when Harry squirmed, waiting for any sign of consciousness as he resumed his gentle touches, growing bolder. His thumb caressed the wiry hairs on Harry’s balls. His fingernail trailed up the underside of Harry’s cock, then worried at the sensitive spot just under the crown. 

Over Christmas break, he’d never touched Harry like this. Then again, Harry had always been hard during their trysts, Ron never had to coax and tease the sensitive flesh to fill and lengthen until it curved towards Harry’s belly.

_There_. Now _that_ was something to look at.

Ron stood up properly and grasped himself again, precum slicking the way as his fingers slid up and down, going faster…and faster…

A whimper made Ron freeze. 

Harry was rubbing his face into his pillow, squirming just a little. His breathing had become shaky, uneven. A flush was blooming across the pale skin of his cheeks, spreading down his chest, his nipples peaked into rosy buds.

Harry’s hips bucked into empty air.

Clearly aroused, Harry continued to make little helpless sounds and squirms, but his eyes never opened.

Ron’s hand slowed as he gaped down at the enticing sight.

Had he inspired...a _wet dream?_

  
  
  
  


  
  


Arms bound behind his back, kneeling at his uncle’s feet, Harry opened his mouth wide. His eyes fluttered shut, groaning as his Uncle Vernon's large cock slid over his tongue. Immediately, it pressed in as deep as it could. Meaty hands held Harry's face to Vernon’s crotch, right where the man wanted him. Pubic hair tickled Harry's nose. 

Eager for a throatfucking, Harry swallowed again and again, teasing his Uncle, trying to make him lose control, to just _move_ damn it! Harry whined, growing more and more desperate. He couldn't even touch his own dick, which leaked so much precum that his length and balls were covered in it, dripping down to the floor, a tiny puddle forming between his legs.

"Suck me, freak," Vernon panted, his cock twitching in Harry's throat. "Suck me like the whore you are. _Take it!_ —" He gave a short, mean thrust, the head of his cock punching at the back of Harry’s throat.

Moments like this, Harry was glad of his lack of gag reflex. Vernon loved to take his time, loved to make Harry nothing more than a cocksleeve.

Harry loved it too.

Patiently, Harry sucked at his Uncle. Drool began to slick his chin. He hummed, breathing in deeply, taking in Vernon's musky scent.

His own cock throbbed, ignored.

"You love this, don't you, freak? Do you have any idea how much I want to take you to work with me?” Vernon groaned. “I'd keep you under my desk all day and you'd sit there, holding my cock in your mouth like a good cockwarmer should. I'd jack off into it, piss into it, whatever and whenever I want. You'd be naked and bound, my cock in your throat—"

Vernon finally started to rock a little, barely pulling out and pressing Harry's nose back to his crotch.

“—I'd pass you around the office. Your ass would be _gaping_ by the time work ended. I'd get you in the car sitting next to me so that, on the way home, you'd blow me nice and slow until I'd _have_ to pull over.”

Vernon began to fuck his face in earnest then. Harry moaned, sucking him harder because he was _so turned on_ by the fantasy Vernon was spinning and from the heavy cock dicking his throat with increasing violence. 

“I'd drag you out of the car, push you up against it. Your hole would still be _dripping_ wet and I'd slide right in, slicked by all the loads of the men who came before me, pound your arse _right there_. Cars would pass us by. They'd see how well you take me, how you beg for your _Uncle_ to fuck you _harder_ and _harder_ —"

Vernon’s cock and balls were drenched in spit. When his balls hit Harry's chin and throat, the sound of flesh on flesh grew obscene, wet and loud.

Harry whimpered. 

He wanted to come. 

He _needed_ to come.

All he could do was curl his tongue against his uncle's dick as it abused his throat, moaning every time the tip hit the back and kept going. It felt so _good_ having Vernon fuck his face. Not as good as having that thick cock in his ass, but he always felt way more used like this, in his _true_ place in life: a dirty cumhole, a cocksleeve, a nice warm mouth for the taking.

"—you'd come on my cock, unable to stop yourself and I'd fuck you until I come so hard, my seed takes _days_ to seep out of you, _breed_ you like a _whore_ —"

Harry whined, his eyes falling shut, on the brink of his own orgasm. His thoughts were fraying as need took him over, slipping into that fuzzy headspace...

But then he noticed something strange.

The hands clutching Harry's head felt different, less...meaty. 

And Vernon's deep, pig-like grunts had changed into soft sighs, higher pitched. The rhythmic _click_ of Vernon’s loose belt buckle was gone, as was the bulging gut Harry’s face had been pressed into. 

Harry opened his eyes, seeing flowing black cloth instead of the garish plaid his uncle favored in his work attire. Confused, he looked up—

—straight into burning red eyes.

Harry froze. 

He would have reared back in shock if not for the long, spider-like fingers holding him still, so Harry was forced to stare up at the monster that had taken Vernon’s place, his lips wrapped around the oddly scaled length of the Dark Lord. 

That lipless mouth twitched, the corners upturning into a cold facsimile of a smile. Voldemort stared down at him with what eerily looked like fondness (if demented serial killers could feel something as human as affection). 

_“Come now, Harry,”_ Voldemort crooned down at Harry in parseltongue, the sensual hissing sent shivers down his spine. One large hand carded through his messy hair, brushing it from his eyes ever so gently. _“Pleasure me.”_

Harry’s heart _pounded_. Fear coursed through his veins, clear-thinking impossible as panic began to set in. 

Where was Uncle Vernon?

The fingers of the hand not petting him flexed, the pads digging into Harry’ scalp minutely, swirling...swirling...massaging slow and hypnotic…

Despite his fear and shock, still barely comprehending that it was _Voldemort_ in his mouth, Harry felt himself easing, little by little, back into that fuzzy headspace, soothed by the tender touch and his enemy’s mesmerizing red eyes, eyes which were still so much like Tom RIddle’s dark ones even with the slitted pupils, beautiful and terrifying all at once. 

As Harry fell deeper and deeper into the trancelike state, his residual ardor surged, twinning with his terror, twisting it into an electrifying sizzle of want that left Harry shaking on his knees. He stared back into the blood-red eyes of evil incarnate and, trembling like a leaf, began to suck. 

Slowly, Harry worked with increasing vigor, taking more and more. 

Voldemort sighed, petting him. _”That’s it, pet,”_ he crooned in a soft hiss. _“Show your devotion to your Master.”_

Some lingering higher brain function processed that and anger valiantly tried to cut through the lust and fear that made him so docile. 

_Master?_

No one _owned_ him.

Harry growled, but to Voldemort it was a tease. 

_“Mmmm...defiant even now, as you worship me on your knees.”_ Voldemort smoothed his thumb over Harry’s cheek, rubbing at his cock through the layers of skin. _“So beautiful in your submission...the loveliest whore…”_

_Submission?_ Harry wasn’t _submitting_ , he was being _forced_ —

_“Are you? How can I force you...when you_ want _it?”_ Voldemort pulled his hands away, holding them inches away — only Harry didn’t stop moving. He kept suckling at Voldemort’s length, rolling his tongue against the thick vein on the underside, moaning as the first taste of precum met his tongue. 

It was all _Harry_. 

Tears coursed down Harry’s face. 

_He’s right,_ Harry thought, taking the Dark Lord deep into his throat, shivering at the deep groan Voldemort made. Shame coursed through him. _I want it...I’m a dirty, disgusting_ —

_“Why?”_

Those hands finally did force Harry — to stop. 

Voldemort pet him, gentling him. Careful hands brushed away his tears. _“Why should you be ashamed of your desires? Is it because those you call ‘friend’ won’t understand you? You fear their disapproval, their betrayal, for being anything less than their perfect snow-white savior. It’s human to have wants...needs… Why should you be denied your own? There now…”_

Voldemort stroked his hair, his expression soft in a way Harry had never seen, looking perfectly content to wait for Harry to calm down.

Harry took a deep, shaky breath in through his nose and out. In and out. 

He _should_ be ashamed for this, for being so weak against his desires. Voldemort had killed so many, had killed Harry’s _parents_ , had brought about the death of his _godfather_ , and yet here Harry was, sitting docile at the Dark Lord’s feet, still nursing at his cock like an infant with a bottle. 

Harry knew this man was evil and that this was _wrong,_ so _why_ did it make him so hard it hurt? 

Why did he want _more?_

_“Shhh...none of that, Pet...None of that matters. Not here.”_

Voldemort’s fingers were everywhere...brushing feather-light across his shoulders...through his hair...over his face… 

When Voldemort cupped his nape, squeezing ever so lightly, a shock of heat and want flashed down his spine, throbbing deep in his groin, and Harry whined, eyes falling shut as bliss threatened to overwhelm him. 

Why did that feel so _good_? Harry whimpered, sucking harder, moaning like the filthy whore he was.

_“So good for me, Pet...yes…_ ” Voldemort hissed out, eyes falling half-shut as Harry began to pleasure him in earnest. His pupils were so dilated the red was nearly eclipsed. His breathing was labored, clearly affected by what Harry was doing to him.

—and what a _thrill_ , to bring the dark wizard down to his knees.

It made Harry so hot and bothered that precum began to leak down his cock once more.

_“My pretty pet whore…”_ Voldemort groaned. 

Harry stared into his eyes, forgetting everything Snape had said about occlumency and legilimency, uncaring that his mind was utterly defenseless. If Voldemort wanted, he could steal every last secret from Harry with sickening ease. None of that mattered, not now, not when he had Voldemort leaking precum into his mouth, not when the _Dark Lord_ was visibly fraying under Harry’s tender care.

This wasn’t _shameful_.

This was _power_.

Long fingers dug into Harry’s scalp, squeezing Harry’s skull like a lifeline. 

A shot of cum filled Harry’s mouth just before Voldemort made one single _thrust,_ burying himself to the hilt, stilling in Harry’s throat and emptying the rest straight down it. Harry swallowed, desperately trying to savor the taste of the man, of his greatest enemy, as lust and pride overwhelmed him.

He’d made Voldemort _come_ —

Harry woke, gasping and thrashing as he came, his belly and chest splattered with his own mess. Breathing hard and very disoriented, he collapsed back into the mattress, feeling tingly and pleasantly exhausted, his toes still curling a little into the bedclothes.

He hadn’t come that hard in _ages_.

And he’d come from—

Images flashed through his mind: Vernon, using Harry’s mouth, whispering filth, and then _Voldemort_ —

A great shudder went through his body. 

It had been a dream. Just a dream.

But still... 

Harry’s stomach rolled. 

...to have dreamt something like _that…_

What the _fuck_ was _wrong_ with him?

He shivered, unnerved by his own mind, then shivered again, feeling cold, bare—

Harry looked down at himself and blinked. His pajamas were pulled down and his shirt had been unbuttoned to reveal his chest. Cum pooled in the grooves of his strange white scars.

Why was he half-naked?

Suddenly, Harry became aware that there was someone standing over him. 

Panic seized him and all thoughts of his strange-wrong dream evaporated in the face of imminent danger. Yelping, Harry rolled over to shield his privates while fumbling at his nightstand for his glasses, cursing his piss-poor eyesight for the billionth time.

Standing over him was Ron, hard cock in hand, gaping down at Harry like a fish out of water. A spurt of precum dribbled down Ron's knuckles. His face was bright red and he looked _incredibly_ guilty.

Harry looked back down at his own disheveled state and put two and two together. 

"Did you...undress me?" Anger began to cut through the hazy of his orgasm. Harry knelt up, sitting back on his haunches, purposefully not covering himself as he faced Ron. “I don’t get it. You blow me off for days like you can’t stand the _sight_ of me, yet here you are—”

“This is _your_ fault!” Ron croaked, hastily tucking himself away into his robes. It wasn’t very helpful, the tented robes did nothing to protect his modesty. “If you hadn’t done this to me—”

“Done _what?_ ” Harry scowled. “I haven’t done a _thing_ to you. YOU fucked ME, if you’ll remember—”

“I DO remember! It’s all I can bloody well think about! Do you know how awful it is fucking my own girlfriend and thinking about _you_?!”

Harry blinked, trying to parse that out. “I— Why is that _my_ fault?” 

“You must have done something to me.” Looking rather feverish, Ron ran both hands through his hair, tugging at it fitfully. “I wasn’t like this before, I never wanted… I don’t _like_ —

The door to the dorm opened.

Harry and Ron both turned to see Seamus, Dean, and Neville standing in the doorway, gaping at the scene they stumbled upon.

"Well so much for Harry still being asleep," Seamus quipped absently, his wand loosely held in his hand, clearly regretting his actions.

Dean elbowed him. His eyes darted between them, taking in first Ron’s aroused state then Harry’s exposed skin, his gaze lingering…

And Dean wasn’t the only one looking, Harry noticed. 

Harry’s blood quickened, arousal coiling deep in his belly. As though his wet dream never happened, his cock twitched, beginning to thicken once more. 

Maybe if he played his cards right...

Harry didn’t bother trying to cover himself. Instead, he shifted on his knees so that his front was better angled to the door, subtly putting himself on display...oh, yes, those were _definitely_ looks of appreciation. 

With luck, Harry might not have to wait until Saturday.

“Um,” Seamus swallowed hard, looking at Harry and trying not to _look_ like he was looking (and failing). "Are we interrupting?"

Harry glanced over at Ron, frowning. The ginger stared at their fellow roommates, apparently frozen in shock, though his impressive erection didn’t seem to flag in the slightest.

_Whatever._

Sniffing, Harry gave Ron an ugly look.. "No, you’re not. It’s not like _Ron —_ " Ron turned to him so fast Harry was swore he heard bones crack "— was _actually_ going to fuck me.” Harry watched with mild interest as his friend turned an awful shade of puce. _Let him get mad_ , he thought, jaw clenching. Harry was used to being hurt and used by people who didn’t care about him, but Ron was his _friend_ and, frankly, Harry expected more from him. Ron couldn’t have it both ways, ignoring Harry then crawling back when his cock needed satisfying. 

Harry did have _some_ standards, at least where his friends were concerned. 

Or perhaps his expectations had grown too high.

Harry’s eyes prickled with tears he refused to shed. 

This was getting _unbearable_. So many eyes were on him, teasing him. His cock was at full attention, uncaring that it was his classmates he was bared for, that this was dangerous and wrong and could backfire in his face in a thousand ways. And then there was _Ginny_ to worry about. Her stupid rivalry had prevented Harry from this sort of thing the whole of first term. They had fallen into a tentative truce of sorts over the Christmas break, unspoken. For all Harry knew, that truce was over, now that term had resumed and her father wasn’t around to force her to play nice. 

Harry’s cock throbbed. He felt _painfully_ empty. There was no plug inside of Harry, having been too tired to remember it before falling into bed the night before, so his ass clenched on nothing, bereft of his usual means of relief from the cloying _need_ that had plagued him since the summer holiday, when his base urges came to life. 

Harry felt empty and he _hated_ it.

The room was dead silent. 

Reluctantly, Harry broke it himself. "Look," he said from between clenched teeth. "If you don't want to help me, fine. Then get out so I can take care of things myself!" His voice cracked, his throat choking up with more emotions than he could name. With all his friend's eyes on him, Harry felt like he might just explode from it all. It was all he could do to keep from touching himself.

He swallowed a frustrated growl.

The room was so quiet that Harry began to seriously wonder if he was still dreaming, his nightmare having morphed into a fun, new way of driving him mad.

Then—

"H-happy to help," Neville was the first to say, blushing bright red behind Dean and Seamus, who nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," Dean walked in and sat on the foot of the bed. "Whatever you need, mate." He stroked Harry's thigh, licking his lips.

“I mean, I’m all for helping out a friend,” Seamus grinned. Following Dean’s lead, he sat on the long edge of the bed, furthest side from Ron, looking unabashedly at Harry’s erect cock. "Fuck yeah, we’ll help out if _Ronnie_ - _kins_ can't keep up."

Coming out of his shock, Ron glowered, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

“Really? You mean it?” Harry blinked. He hadn’t really expected a positive response. Hoped for, sure, but not expected. “It’s not...too weird?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve got a bent cousin. It’s not weird to me. Besides...” His grin became wolfish, hungry. “It’s not like you’re hard to look at.”

Harry blushed. For all his... _experience_ , being told he was attractive, even in a roundabout way, was surprising and made him feel oddly vulnerable.

Beside Harry, Seamus nodded in agreement. “Yeah, definitely not a hardship.” He dragged a fingernail down the swell of Harry’s ass, smirking at the shiver that ran through Harry.

“Horndog,” Dean mocked, shaking his head, eyeing the faint pink scratch mark on Harry’s skin with interest.

“Hey, you’re the one who said he looked good.”

Neville, still quiet and nervous looking, closed the door, spelling it locked.

“Good thinking, Nev.” Seamus cast a silencing charm on the room. “Just in case.”

It took Neville a few more seconds to screw up his courage before walking up to Ron, gently nudging him aside. Now having plenty of room, Neville opened his robes, exposing himself. He had a decent-sized cock, more average than anything. It was at half-chub and rising, even under the gaze of his friends.

Harry was surprised Neville could be so bold.

A Gryffindor indeed.

Well, if Neville was offering...

Hobbled by his own pajama bottoms, Harry wiggled around, so that he could face Neville on all fours. Absently, Harry wished he could lay down into a more comfortable position, but that was difficult with two other boys on the bed with him. Wrapping a gentle hand around Neville’s cock, Harry pumped him up to fully erect, enjoying the feeling of soft skin over hard flesh. Neville reached out to pet at Harry's mop of hair, weaving his fingers in it so that he could gently tug Harry closer.... closer...

The tip brushed his lips. He let Neville guide the pace and, slowly, the nervous boy was pressing into his mouth, the cock a lovely weight on his tongue. Harry gently sucked, doing his best to not scare Neville. For all Harry knew, thus was his first time and that made Harry a little worried about going too hard too fast.

The others didn't seem to have that issue.

"Come on, Neville, fuck his face." Dean had pulled out his own cock and was stroking it lazily. "You can do it."

"Yeah, fuck that sweet mouth..." Seamus was running his hands up and down Harry's sides and hips, swirling his thumbs across Harry's asscheeks in a deep tissue massage that made Harry moan and suck harder despite himself. "Fucking hot..." Seamus took up working the flesh of Harry's ass, groping it, groaning at the teasing glimpses of Harry’ tight hole.

Ron remained silent, watching everything with wide eyes, but his hand had started to work his thick cock over his robes. He didn’t appear to notice he was doing it.

At least he wasn't freaking out too badly.

Neville grew bolder. He held Harry's face in his hands and started thrusting his hips, working his cock in and out of Harry's mouth in small increments, barely hitting the back of Harry's throat.

Harry needed more than that little tease though.

Gripping Neville's thighs, Harry leaned into the next thrust and forced his head down until his nose was buried in his friend's pubes.

Then he _hummed_.

Neville gasped, tugging frantically on Harry's hair. "Harry! I'm— if you don't stop I'll—"

Harry didn't stop.

Hungrily, he bobbed up and down, sucking hard. The bitter tang of precum was on his tongue, making his mouth water. Before long, Neville's cock and balls were a sloppy mess of spit, and then Neville was pulling out of Harry's mouth to spurt thick ropes of cum, the mess landing all over Harry's face and hair.

Harry licked his lips and pouted. He'd wanted a better taste of that…

“Fuck, Harry! I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you—”

Harry laughed. “It’s fine, Nev. But for the record, it would take quite the effort to hurt me.” He winked. 

Neville blushed.

"Damn..." Dean was squeezing his cock at the root in a tight grip that made Harry ache to look at. "That was nice, Neville, but...I _think_ he needs something a little _rougher_. Right, mate?" Dean kneaded at his heavy balls. At Harry's wide-eyed nod, Dean knelt up on the end of the bed, drawing Harry around with a firm grip on his soiled hair. Dean slapped his cock against the tip of Harry's nose. "Nuh-uh, not yet," he admonished softly when Harry tried to get his mouth on it. ”You haven’t earned it yet.”

Once Harry settled again, Dean took his time. He nudged at Harry's nose with the tip, drawing it up and across an eyebrow, smearing precum as he went, the dark skin of his cock alluring against the flush in Harry's pale skin. Gently, very gently, Dean prodded at Harry's eye, getting very close to it before Harry's lid closed and he smeared precum there too. Dean worked his way around Harry's face, marking up Harry's skin, rubbing the length of his cock in lazy thrusts against Harry's cheek before prying Harry's jaw wide open, his fingers spreading Harry's lips almost painfully apart, looking inside Harry's mouth. "Not much room in here. You sure you want my cock in it?"

Mouth stretched open on Dean's fingers, Harry nodded. His eyes were starting to water from the stretch at his lips.

" _How_ sure?"

Harry tried to push Dean out of his mouth with his tongue to answer, but his mouth was stretched open even wider for his efforts.

Dean just wouldn't let go of his mouth.

Harry whined, frustrated. "Vewy shuh." He garbled, flushing when everyone laughed.

"You want my cock in your mouth?"

"...yeth..."

They laughed harder. 

Harry could tell his face was beet-red, but his embarrassment only served to make him harder. For some reason, he never really minded being humiliated, at least where sex was concerned. 

He wondered what that said about him.

Dean took mercy on Harry. Without using his hands, he guided his cock to Harry's mouth, keeping Harry's jaw open wide as he slid in until the tip nudged the back of Harry's throat, only half of his cock inside. Holding Harry like that, Dean gave tiny thrusts into his mouth, trying to set off a gag reflex that wasn't there. Dean frowned. He nudged his way deeper and deeper, eyes wide in shock when he realized that most of his cock was in Harry's mouth and throat now.

"Morgana's _tits_..." Seamus craned his head for a better look. "He ain't even _choking_."

"He doesn't have a gag reflex."

Neville, Dean and Seamus looked over at Ron, who had finally taken his cock out and was working it in lazy pumps. Realizing everyone's eyes were on him, he flushed, his pale skin blotchy with his embarrassment. "He spent Christmas at my house," he muttered, as though it explained everything.

Then again, it kinda did.

"Well then," Dean grinned down at Harry, "if you can take it...." He pulled out to the tip before he took his fingers from Harry's lips, moving to get a tight grip on either side of Harry's head. "Then you should _take_ it!" He forced Harry down on him as he thrust up _hard_ , every single inch of his big cock taken by that hot wet mouth.

Harry swallowed around him.

" _Merlin!_ " Dean groaned as he started to fuck Harry's face in rough jabs, nearly yanking Harry's face into his crotch. "Oh, he's taking it...he's taking it..." he rasped, grinding against Harry's face.

Harry was enjoying himself more than a little bit. Every time he felt his throat stretch around Dean, he wanted to scream or cry because he _knew_ that if that cock was in his ass, Harry would have come by now. He was so hard it hurt and half-rutting against empty air wasn't doing anything to relieve his own need.

Harry rocked his hips anyway, flicking droplets of precum all over the bedclothes.

Oh he _wanted_ —

Seamus was still massaging Harry's ass cheeks, gripping them tighter and tighter, then relaxing then gripping again. One hand let go—.

Tears stung at Harry's eyes when a sudden _slap!_ jarred him, pain lighting up his ass at the unexpected spank. Startled, Harry swallowed around Dean's cock.

"Do that again!" Dean groaned. He was fucking Harry's face so hard, his balls were bouncing off Harry's throat.

Seamus humored him, spanking Harry in time with a Dean's thrusts, Neville leaning over to help by striking Harry's other check.

Harry kept swallowing around Dean as his synapses crossed, the pain of every smack turning into pleasure, turning his brain to mush. He arched his back, trying to meet their hands, trying to get them to hit him _harder_. He sucked the big cock leaking in his mouth, moaning around it, his own cock _throbbing_ —

"Ahh!" Dean cried out, pulsing his cum so deep that Harry couldn't taste it until he pulled out, catching a dribble of the bitter fluid.

Harry licked his lips. _Damn_ Dean tasted good…

The spankings had stopped, which was just as well because Harry was panting like mad, now that he could breathe properly again. His cock was still ached, twitching between his legs. Sucking cock was nice, he absolutely loved it, but what Harry _really_ needed was—

Hands palmed Harry's sensitive ass cheeks again, this time spreading them and holding them apart, putting Harry's asshole on display. Without warning, he felt something warm and wet lap at his hole in confident swipes.

"Guh!" Harry flinched just before he tried to move back, to fuck himself on that tongue. Not enough of his partners seemed to like rimming, which was a shame because Harry fucking _loved_ it.

"That's so _dirty_ , Seamus," Neville whispered, leaning closer to watch his dormmate tongue-fuck Harry's hole, fisting his own hardening cock.

"Wow, that's _twisted_..." Dean knelt around to watch too, his half-hard cock still out of his robes.

Seamus pressed his tongue deep and sucked hard at Harry's rim, grasping Harry’s hips tight, keeping Harry where he wanted him.

Harry gave a loud sob. He was going to go insane if someone didn’t fuck him soon. His whole body felt like it was on _fire_. His hole desperately needed to be stretched wide. Seeing stars, Harry rocked back and forth in little pulses, as much as Seamus allowed at least. 

It felt so _good_ —

"Fucking _love_ rimjibs," Ron whispered. He shifted closer so his cock pressed against Harry's lips. "Come on baby, suck my cock. You want my cock, don't you?"

Need made Harry forget about their unresolved issues. He opened his mouth, letting Ron use his face as he wished, artlessly swiping his tongue over the thick girth of his friend. Seamus spelled his hole slick and worked his ass open with fingers now, first one, then two, working up to four—

Another spell was cast, slicking up his hole again just before Seamus worked his thumb in, wriggling his fingers and twisting at the wrist, his _entire hand_ in Harry's ass, his fist ruthlessly working that spot inside Harry—

Harry screamed around Ron's thick cock, coming hard as he humped empty air, making a mess of the bed and his own chest. 

His vision went white and he tumbled into unconsciousness...

@@@@@@

Harry's body was jolting back and forth. He was having trouble breathing, probably something to do with how his lips were wrapped around something that moved in and out of his mouth, out of time with whatever it was moving in and out of his ass.

His eyes fluttered open and he realized quite suddenly that he was on his side, being hammered at either end in relentless thrusts.

"Ah—Ah! Harry!" From behind him, an Irish lilt cried out. Seamus stilled, fingers digging bruises into Harry’s hips as he pumped Harry full of cum.

Harry whined around the cock in his mouth, which flooded Harry's mouth with so much cum that it dribbled down his chin to the bed.

"Yeah, Neville, make him drink your cum!"

"Awesome, Nev!"

Harry rolled his hips, trapped between two softening, spent cocks. He was hard again and _aching_.

Both cocks slid out. Harry blearily looked around, rolling onto his belly. Neville was tottering away to lay on his own bed, most of the room on Harrys’ bed taken by Harry's sprawling form and the other boys crowding around him. Seamus moved off too, giving Harry a last playful swat on the ass as he went, making room for Dean to take his place. The black boy wasted no time in spreading Harry's legs, then Dean was fucking him in fast thrusts that speared Harry's hole wide around his cock, making Harry whimper and fist the covers, his own hard cock pinned between his belly and the bedclothes..

_Merlin,_ Dean felt good inside him, taking him _hard_ —

"Hey, get his head over the edge, Dean." Ron was jacking his cock, smacking the tip on Harry's face as Dean shuffled Harry's weak body over.

"Hold on." Dean pulled out and flipped Harry onto his back, sliding back in in one smooth thrust that made Harry's toes curl. Dean folded Harry's legs up to his chest, knees spread _wide_ to accommodate the black boy's larger body. "Yeah, you like that?" He changed the angle and Harry was crying and gasping, pleasure jolting through him as Dean fucked his brains out. "Yeah baby, take my cock. You _love_ it, don’t you, you fucking _whore_..."

Harry's head lolled over the side of the bed, brilliantly placed for Ron to straddle his head and fuck his mouth again, going balls deep each time, rough and unrelenting as he used his friend's throat to get off, uncaring if he hurt Harry, that his balls were slapping at Harry's face hard enough to bruise his eyes..

The two boys took their own pleasure, loving how Harry moaned and whimpered with every thrust.

Out of nowhere, Harry's orgasm struck, fire scorching through his veins, white-hot, driving all thought from his mind as he clawed at Dean, spasming on his cock.

"Fuck!" Dean came, fucking Harry hard, filling up his slutty, used hole with another load of cum, the whitish fluid frothing up as he kept rolling his hips. Eventually, he stopped, groaning as Harry's hole still tried to grasp at him.

Ron had pulled out when Harry came, watching as Dean fucked more cum into his friend. His hands flew as he stripped his cock, eyes glued to Harry's stretched out, abused hole where it was clutching desperately at Dean's big black cock. Ron licked his lips at the contrast between their flesh, his heart aching at how _beautiful_ they looked.

Cum seeped from Harry's ass. Harry had been utterly defiled by all of them.

Breath hitching, Ron came on Harry's face and chest, painting his friend in his seed. He leaned down to rub it into Harry's skin, thumbing and pinching Harry's nipple as he did; Harry twitched, a thready whine falling from his lips.

Dean finally pulled out. They watched Harry gape open, smirking at how fucked out and used he looked.

A proper slut.

Harry was vaguely aware of Ron and Dean moving away, the four boys heading to clean up, leaving Harry a downright mess.

Exhausted and half-blissed out, Harry reached down between his spread legs, fingering his open hole, sliding easily through the cum inside.

Dean and Seamus had done that.

He licked his lips, tasting cum.

His friends had used his body and still....Harry wanted _more._

Feeling that familiar itch take hold, the clawing _need_ that made him crazy-desperate for a fuck, he buried three fingers in his ass, stroking his hardening cock, whimpering.

He _needed_...

Harry was writhing on the bed, curling his fingers against that _spot_ inside his. He squeezed his cock, trying to work himself back to that edge so he could fling himself over it again.

This was the scene the boys walked in on, fresh from their quick showers.

"Boys, I think it's time to get back on the horse again," Ron smirked, dropping his towel from around his waist, feeling himself rise to the occasion.


	3. Harry's Winter is Getting on Really Well

_January was a bitter, cold affair. But Harry didn't mind. Not when his friends kept him nice and warm._

_And used._

  
  


Harry's legs trembled as he struggled to keep pace, riding Neville's cock. It would have been easier to do if Neville wasn't so insistent about sticking his tongue down Harry's throat, but Harry let him, enjoying the novel experience of a kiss. Not many of his clients preferred such an intimacy. 

Sucking on Neville's tongue made him thrust up into Harry harder though, so he couldn't complain.

  
  


_As February drew near, the sixth year Gryffindor boys did their best to keep up with their resident slut. It was a burden they all bore quite happily, even if it left them exhausted._

  
  


Harry was on his knees, gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles were white. Seamus clutched at his shoulders from behind, dragging Harry back onto his cock in violent thrusts that made Harry's teeth clatter together. He was so rough with Harry the four-poster shook.

Harry arched his hips. He was hard again and aching. Every time his cock slapped against his belly, Harry sobbed, knowing that all the stimulation couldn’t get him off, not with the leather tie wrapped around his genitals, preventing him from coming out of turn (again).

The bed frame moved back and forth across the stone floor.

"Fuckmefuckmefuckme—" Harry chanted under his breath. Seamus battered that spot inside him. Harry could hardly _breathe,_ it felt so good. 

His eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"Dirty cunt," Seamus groaned in his ear. "I wanna fuck you on the table in the great hall, let everyone see how you take a cock. You want that?"

Yes he did.

"Please!" Was all Harry could manage to say.

It worked well enough.

Seamus stilled and came, pulling out to let Dean take his place. 

Dean liked to kiss too. He drew Harry's face to the side so he could kiss Harry deep and dirty as he pounded Harry in short thrusts.

Maybe there was something to this whole kissing thing after all.

  
  


_One issue they all had to get used to was that they had to share Harry. And sometimes Harry didn't want to wait until one person had finished with him._

  
  
  


Ron shushed Harry's soft whines, holding him tighter into his chest as Dean eased his cock into Harry's ass alongside his own. "See?" Ron said weakly, clutching at Harry like he was a lifeline. "Told you he could take it."

Dean rolled his hips. They all groaned. "He's so _tight_ around us. If we move, I think he'll break."

"I'll break if you don't _start_ moving!" Harry sobbed into Ron's collar bone. He shook like a leaf, stretched impossibly tight around his friends. It hurt and it didn't. The pain allowed him to rock back from the edge so he could enjoy being so thoroughly stretched on two hard cocks.

Neville coaxed Harry"s head to the side so he could feed his cock into Harry's slack mouth. "This ought to keep him quiet for a bit."

"Don’t count on it." Dean gripped Harry's hips tight and began to rock, soon hammering into the vice grip around his cock with wild abandon, groaning deep in his throat. "Oh Merlin... _nothing_ should feel this good..."

Harry seemed to agree if the frantic moans muffled by Neville's cock were any indicating. Tears streamed down Harry's face, ignored by everyone.

Ron threw his head back, eyes screwed shut as he tried not to come too soon because Dean was right. Harry felt so damn good, but so did Dean's cock sliding against his and Ron was torn between arousal and confused revulsion, highly aware of Dean's balls slapping against his own. It reminded him of Christmas break when Bill slid into his ass without warning, forcing Ron to _take_ his cock, to _like it_ —

Ron stared at Harry's mouth, stretched wide by Neville's cock, wondering if cock tasted as good as it looked.

Ron shot his load with a whimpering cry.

Seamus, who had been jacking off beside them on the bed, finally came, aiming for Harry's face, Some got on Ron, who swore at him, rubbing it away and into his skin.

_Weeks flew by, January melting seamlessly into February. Harry was enjoying the winter season more than ever. Though he loathed his frigid, underground trek to Hogsmeade every Saturday, the six days he spent in the castle were delightfully more comfortable than before the Christmas holiday. Harry's butt plug was only used to keep him open or full of cum, now that he was fucked daily instead of just once a week._

  
  
  


Everyone watched, wide-eyed as Seamus fisted Harry. Harry was holding his own legs wide apart this time, shaking like mad every time Seamus would spread his fingers _wide_. It was so intense that Harry had gone from crying openly to utter silence, his breath hitching in his chest as he stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, his mind utterly blank and thoughtless.

"That's so weird."

"How does it feel?"

"You'll make him all loose like that."

"It's hot and tight,” Seamus grunted, punching inwards sharply. “Like a really weird glove." 

They laughed as Harry's legs kicked involuntarily.

"If I'd known he was this much of a slut, I’d have been busting a nut inside him all year," Seamus chuckled. "I just can’t believe how his ass is always so tight. Even after doin’ shite like this."

"Yeah, it’s kind of amazing,” Dean said. “And the _stuff_ he lets us do to him... Sometimes I think we could fuck him right there in the Common Room. Just line up behind him and have a go. And then let everyone else have one.”

"Yeah, he'd let you, too." Ron said. “He's that needy. The number of times he was fucked at my house..." He shook his head, impressed with Harry’s stamina.

"You couldn't have kept him filled up the whole time, you’d have died." Neville objected, stoking his own cock.

"Wasn't just me there, was it? I have brothers you know."

They all groaned, reminded of how many Weasleys there were.

Remembering Christmas break too, Harry came. He clenched around Seamus hand with a strangled cry, fresh tears falling when the boy balled up his fingers and began to fist him in earnest, not stopping until Harry’s cock spurted another weak dribble of cum into his belly, eyes rolling back in his head as Seamus abused his hole and prostate.

He was kitten weak and limp as Seamus pulled out his hand and fucked him with his cock instead. Neville and Ron held Harry's legs out to give Harry's loose hole a tighter fit around Seamus cock. Dean fucked Harry's slack mouth, uncaring that Harry barely sucked him when that throat was massaging his cock.

When Seamus was done, Neville and Ron took their turns, with Dean filling up Harry's useless mouth in deep, slow thrusts.

_Harry not only became used to getting sex regularly, he now expected it._

_And he got it._

  
  


Harry was limp, face down on the bed, covered in cum. Someone was behind him between his legs, stuffing their cock into his ass. He groaned.

_Nothing should feel this_ good, he thought. He could do this for hours. He _had_ done this for hours. His dormmates were rather creative, as if turned out, and horny to boot. They'd graciously spent hours stuffing his holes, getting off in him, on him, getting Harry off too, though not one person touched his cock.

Harry was used to that. When he whored at the Hog's Head Inn, no one cared if he came, if he liked it. 

But Harry still came. And his customers liked how much _Harry_ seemed to like it.

The only difference here in the tower was that he wasn't wearing a hood to protect his identity.

His mates could see his face. They _knew_ who they fucked.

It made Harry’s balls heavy and ache to come. _._

A cock slipped into his mouth, driving into his throat. Hands gripped Harry's hips, bruising. Cum filled Harry's ass.

This was all he wanted. 

  
  
  


_March crept closer, bringing with it the promise of better weather for Harry's runs to the Hog's Head Inn. Though Harry's needs were satisfied more than ever, some nameless sense within him grew more wary with each passing day._

_He was waiting for the other shoe to drop._

Seamus led him to a shadowy niche just a corridor off the main hallway where students were making their way to lunch.

He pressed Harry face first against the stone, grinding into his ass. "You want my cock, love?" He jerked Harry's hips back hard. "You want a hard fuck?"

"Yessss..." Harry hissed, pulling his robes up and tugging his trousers down out of the way, revealing the large plug he'd taken to wearing full-time.

It helped his dormmates fuck him faster if Harry was already prepared.

Glancing over his shoulder, Seamus waved Colin over to stand just behind him. In Collin’s hands was his newest camera, a wizarding model able to take moving pictures in sequence, like a video recorder. 

Grinning widely, Collin aimed the lens at Harry's ass, getting a good shot of the plug. Seamus played with it, pulling it out and jamming it back in, snickering at the needy sounds Harry made. 

The camera could capture those too.

"Come on, fuck me already!"

"Eager slut, aren't ya Harry?"

"I haven't had a cock in my ass since this morning. I _need_ it!"

Seamus grinned back at Colin. He pulled his cock free from his robes. "Don't worry, love. I'll give it to you good."

After removing the plug, Seamus replaced it with his cock, not bothering with spelling Harry slick. The new plug the twins had given him had a built in lube feature (which Harry _loved_ ). Seamus made sure to go slow, letting Collins' camera catch every inch as he sank into Harry Potter's tight ass. Once fully seated, he rolled his hips, making Harry groan and push back into it, trying to egg him on.

"I can never get enough of this tight ass," Seamus groaned. "No matter how many times a day I ream this hole wide open, I just want to make you sit on my cock some more. Let you bounce on it while I play chess with Ron. That would throw him off his game, wouldn't it?"

"Fuck yeah...." Harry groaned. "We should do that later. Loser gets to watch me fuck the winner."

"That's not exactly a punishment, Harry." Seamus chuckled, starting to thrust, rocking Harry back onto him.

The camera kept rolling, catching every moan and beg that slipped from the Boy Who Lived. Seamus drew out their fuck, keen that Colin get as much footage as possible, otherwise he'd have shot his load a while ago.

"Fuck me _harder_.... _please_...." Harry begged when Seamus kept to his steady rhythm. "Fuck me...fuck me..."

Seamus indulged him, slamming viciously into Harry's ass over and over, grinning at Colin's hungry face over his shoulder. "Take it whore. That's what you are, aren't you? What are you?"

"I- I'm a whore. A-a dirty...cocksleeve."

"You like getting fucked?"

"Yessss..."

"How often do you need it?" Seamus whispered, trying to concentrate on holding on, on not coming in that tight hole hugging him so nicely...

"All the time!" Harry sobbed. " I need it so much, I need it—ah!"

Seamus grabbed a handful of Harry's dark hair and pulled, deepening the arch of his back.

It also put Harry in a better position to see the camera out of the corner of his eye.

"What—?" Harry looked over his shoulder, freezing at the sight of Colin and his camera, which was panning back and forth between Harry's stretched hole and Harry's terrified face. "Colin?!?! What-? No! Stop filming Colin, stop! Seamus!"

"Come on Harry, just a little more for the camera—"

"Seamus, no! I don't— No one can see this!"

"No one's gonna see this Harry," Seamus crooned in his ear, slowing his thrusts, deepening them. He grinned at Harry's helpless groan. "It's just a bit of fun. No one will see this, it's just for us. Right, Colin?”

-

"Yeah Harry, no one else," Colin agreed. "Fuck, you look hot like that Harry. He's splitting you open and you just take it!" He took a brief moment to palm himself through his robes, the camera jostling on his shoulder as he did.

Harry's flush deepened. "Really?"

"Yeah...I nearly creamed myself when he started railing you."

Seamus felt Harry clench down on his cock.

They had him.

Seamus swung Harry around to face Colin, his half naked body on full display for the camera. Harry kept holding his robes up out of the way, his hard cock bobbing erratically as Seamus continued to fuck him.

"You like being watched, don’t you, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, staring straight into Collins' camera.

"Does it make you want to come, getting used like a slut while someone sees?"

"...yes...." Harry whispered. He leaned back into Seamus’s chest, eyes drifting half-shut as he rested his head on Seamus’s shoulder. He licked his lips. "I'm a slut... _fuck_ me...Seamus, f _uck_ me!"

Groaning Seamus spun them around again, letting Colin get a side view as he pounded Harry's velvet ass, feeling it clench around him—

"Come on my cock, you whore! I'm gonna full up your dirty cunt for everyone to see!"

Moaning obscenely loud, Harry shook apart, spurting cum all over the stone wall, whimpering as Seamus kept fucking him through his orgasm. "Come inside me," Harry begged. "Breed my cunt."

"You want me to breed you?"

Harry nodded frantically, clamping his hole around Seamus cock so sweetly that Seamus had to obey, creaming Harry's hole in slow thrusts, pulling out just enough to let Colin see the mess of Harry's gaped hole before slamming home and giving a few last spurts into his very willing friend.

Once Seamus pulled out, he spread Harry's messy ass wide open for a good camera shot that showed the cum deep inside, dribbling out and to the floor.

"Wanna go?"

Colin looked over at Seamus s outstretched hand apparently asking to hold the camera for him.

Colin didn't need to be asked twice. 

In seconds, Seamus was aiming the camera at Harry's newly filled hole and Colin was thrusting away like mad, as if he'd been told he had a minute to come or he'd never come again.

Harry, slut that he was, just braced himself against the wall and let Colin fuck him as he liked, panting at the sheer vigor of the younger boy.

"Colin, how does it feel to fuck the Boy Who Lived?"

"It feels so— it feels— Oh Merlin, he's still _tight!_ I can feel all your cum inside him!"

"Oh it's not just mine," Seamus laughed. "He has three other dormmates and he keeps all our cocks pretty satisfied."

"Seamus!" Harry sent a fearful look at him over his shoulder. "Don't—!"

"Come on Harry...tell him how you start your day by sucking our cocks. How you won't go to breakfast until everyone has creamed your hole at least once, sometimes twice. How you can't stand to walk around empty so you wear a cock-sized butt plug all day, grinding on it in class with everyone around to see."

"Wow Harry, do you really?" Colin fucked him harder, if that was possible.

"I.... I.... yes!" Harry ground back on Colin’s cock, writhing on it, his cock standing proud once more. "I do, I do. I need it! Fuck me Colin, fuck me!"

That was all Colin could handle. He shot his load, gasping into Harry's back, leaving Harry unfulfilled and whining.

_Can't have that_ , Seamus thought.

"Here," he held the camera out for Colin . "I'll take care of this." And he slid his renewed erection back into Harry's sloppy hole, making sure Harry came once more for the camera before creaming him full and replacing the plug, keeping all that cum trapped inside.

Colin got a good long shot of that red pucker wrapped around the punishingly large plug (Seamus may have enlarged it a bit).

The bell rang.

"Well, missed lunch. Let's swing by the kitchen on our way to history, eh Harry?' Seamus helped Harry right his clothes.

"You _promise_ no one sees this? _Please_." Harry looked between them, squirming nervously.

"Well...it might be hard to keep it hidden....it's a lot of work..." Collin hedged, a tiny smirk ruining his play at innocence.

Harry's shoulders slumped. "What do you want?"

"A blowjob," Colin said without hesitating. "And another shot at that ass. Preferably out in the open again, like this."

Seamus wasn't sure if it was a testament to how much Harry wanted this kept quiet or to how slutty he was, but Harry agreed with a brief nod, not even raising a fuss at the blackmail. 

Grumbling under his breath, Harry followed Seamus, glowering at the satisfied look on his face.

"Whatever Potter, you came so hard on my dick with that camera on you, it's a wonder you didn't black out."

Harry was flushed with many shades of embarrassment by the time they got to class. 

  
  


_Harry had cause to worry. Ginny had watched and waited for weeks as Harry took his pleasure, took_ hers _. Soon, she vowed, the tables would turn._

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at collared-fantasies.tumblr.com


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